


The Hand of God

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Spanking, Over the Knee, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: After thwarting Armageddon and evading destruction by their respective sides, Crowley and Aziraphale assume they are in the clear. However, a summons from God Herself means an angel and a demon still have to face some consequences for their actions.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 56





	The Hand of God

Aziraphale took a deep breath, his finger hovering in front of the top elevator button.

“Just push it.”

“I _am!_ ”

Before he could lose his nerve, Aziraphale pressed the button, lighting it up. It was a button seldom used since it went to a floor rarely visited. The _top_ floor. _Her_ floor. It only made sense that God’s penthouse office was the topmost floor of the celestial and infernal home offices, and that was precisely where an unfortunate angel and demon were headed this afternoon.

“Well!” Aziraphale bounced nervously on his toes. “Up we go! Time to pay the piper, I suppose.”

Crowley closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, “Could you just shut up?”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said with a pout and Crowley sighed.

“No, it’s all right, Angel. I’m sorry. Just nervous.”

“Me, too.”

Aziraphale and Crowley had received a summons that morning over breakfast. And not just any summons, but a summons scrawled in golden Enochian script on a gossamer sheet of parchment. It was a summons from God Herself. They may have fooled the Archangels and the Dark Council, but there was no way they could wiggle out of trouble with the Almighty. Suffice it to say that breakfast was ruined.

The elevator dinged with every passing floor, and their anxiety grew as they imagined all manner of horrendous punishments for spoiling Armageddon. Maybe Gabriel had been right about the Great Plan after all. By the time the elevator doors opened, Crowley was sweating bullets and Aziraphale was trembling so badly he nearly dropped the summons in his hand. They entered what appeared to be a small waiting room, adorned with a few simple chairs, and several potted plants. The Metatron sat at a large reception desk ahead of them. Behind him was an enormous wooden door, the frame carved with various intricate embellishments. It could only be _Her_ door. Feet like lead, Aziraphale walked up to the desk and handed the summons over while Crowley trailed behind.

“I’ll let Her know you’re here,” The Metatron said, face impassive. He pulled two neatly folded articles of clothing from beneath his desk; one white and one black, and handed them to Aziraphale and Crowley respectively. “Please use the changing room,” he gestured to a much simpler, smaller door off to the side, “and then have a seat.”

In the changing room, they discovered that the clothing was a pair of ankle-length robes. Apparently an audience with the Almighty required traditional dress. With a sigh, Crowley shrugged and began to undress. Aziraphale blushed and turned away, untying his tartan bow-tie and then slowly unbuttoning his vest. Crowley quickly turned around, as well, realizing the precariousness of the situation. Both of their hearts pounded, not only from the prospect of impending doom, but also from the notion of stripping down in front of one another.

“Ah damn! Oh well...” Crowley muttered under his breath.

“What is it, dear?” Aziraphale turned his head, but only slightly; curious, but not wanting to invade Crowley’s privacy.

“Oh, er, um …” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going, er, _commando_ today. Best not use any demonic miracles while we’re up here, though.” He sighed. “Suppose it doesn’t matter. We didn’t use to wear underwear anyway …”

Aziraphale’s face burned. “Ah. Yes. Right. Well, there’s nothing for it.” He silently thanked Heaven that he was wearing a pair of conservative white briefs, which he kept resolutely on beneath his robe. They left their street clothes behind, including their shoes and socks, and padded back out on bare feet into the waiting area.

Having donned their new attire, the two sat in heavy silence, waiting impatiently while squirming with nerves. The robes were breezy, and Aziraphale certainly felt far more exposed than he did in his fussy three piece suit. It had been ages since he’d dressed like this, and it made him feel, well, _young_. Angels didn’t age, but he had certainly been _newer_ eons ago; innocent and unsure of the universe. He wondered what the Almighty had planned. Surely She wouldn’t have had them change clothes just to destroy them? If it were a typical Heavenly reprimand, it would be the rod, but … both Heaven and Hell had already tried and failed to extinguish their existences, so a ‘good old fashioned smiting’ seemed far too tame in comparison.

After what felt like ages, the Metatron cleared his throat. “She’s ready for you now.”

The large door behind his desk opened seemingly of its own accord, casting a bright light into the waiting room. Crowley cringed and Aziraphale shielded his eyes with his arm. With much trepidation, they forced themselves to stand and walk into the brilliant light.

The door slammed behind them, making them jump. They blinked their eyes, adjusting to the brightness, and found themselves standing in a long, oversized hallway. The walls, ceiling, and even the flooring, were a stark, blinding white.

“Come forth, my children.”

The strong, feminine voice echoed from the end of the hall. There was no choice but to obey, and so, trembling, Aziraphale and Crowley walked towards it. Soon, a woman came into view. She was thin and pale, with short grey-blonde hair, wearing a crisp white pants suit with sensible flats. She sat in a simple, straight-backed, armless chair. And She was _huge_.

If she had been standing, Aziraphale and Crowley likely would have only been half Her impressive height. She stared them down, a grim expression on her face, and her considerable stature made them feel ever so small. Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back, picking at his nails, while Crowley shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark robe to keep them from drumming against his sides. They bowed their heads, hearts in their throats as they waited for the inevitable dressing down.

“I understand neither the Archangels nor the Dark Council members were able to handle you two. Is that correct?”

Aziraphale hunched his shoulders, curling in on himself. Crowley gnawed in his bottom lip for half a moment before blurting out, “W-we didn’t do … I mean to say, er, your ... Grace, um, we don’t understand what happened. One minute we were facing certain destruction, and the next - bam! Nothing. Really unexpected! Crazy stuff! In fact, I’d say that - ”

“Do NOT lie to me.”

Silenced, Crowley opened and closed his mouth like a fish before clamping his lips together, sweat beading at the back of his neck.

The fury in the Almighty’s face dissipated quickly, though, and She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “That sure was a naughty trick you two played.”

“We’re so, _so_ sorry, Lord,” Aziraphale began, eyes already wet with tears.

She held up her hand to stop him. “ _But_ , it was also very clever, and I know it was born from love. I don’t disapprove _per se_. However, I simply cannot let your behavior go unpunished. You two have been toeing the line for centuries, and I _worry_. You’re both liable to get into real trouble if you keep running amok. I’d be remiss not to guide members of my flock when they stray.”

Crowley struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, forcing himself to speak again. “It was all my fault. The whole thing. Influencing the Antichrist -- well, the boy we _thought_ was the Antichrist, anyway ... the Arrangement, cutting corners, and everything! They were all my ideas. He’s innocent.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hissed, terrified, but not about to let his best friend take the fall for him. “That is _not_ true.” He turned to God with desperate, pleading eyes. “He’s lying. Well, you know how demons are. It was all my fault. I’m an _angel_ , and it was my responsibility to --”

“SILENCE!”

They cowered.

“You have _both_ disobeyed, not only breaking the rules, but flaunting it. As you know, I rarely get directly involved in these matters, but you are important to me. And to the ineffable plan. I care about you both a great deal, and I want to be certain you stay out of any undue trouble for a good long while.”

“Oh, we will. We promise!” Crowley said, and Aziraphale nodded his head emphatically.

“I’m sure you will, and I’m going to teach you both a lesson that will ensure you keep that promise. Therefore,” She paused dramatically, and Crowley took a deep breath while Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut. “I shall deliver your reprimands right here and now. Over my knee, please.”

She patted her lap and gave them a stern, expectant look. Aziraphale and Crowley glanced towards each other, eyebrows quirking with uncertainty. Was She serious?

“What? Did you two think I was too high and mighty to smite a couple of naughty bottoms myself?” They blushed, knowing for certain now that she intended to spank them. She raised her eyebrows and spoke with a tone that was clearly a warning, “Aziraphale?”

He hesitated for only half a moment before hurrying forward, and She took him firmly by the wrist, tugging him up and over her thighs where he hung awkwardly. He felt so small over Her generous lap. His hands and feet were unable to reach the floor, and so they dangled, leaving him helpless and vulnerable over Her knee. Once Aziraphale was settled, the Almighty looked to Crowley.

“Well, Child? There’s plenty of room for you up here as well.”

Crowley instinctively took a step backwards. This was beginning to feel ridiculous, as well as frightening! Crowley had _fallen_ and then spent centuries as a denizen of Hell, and yet he balked at the prospect of going over God’s knee. Perhaps it was because She was so imposing, or maybe it was the overwhelming guilt of having disappointed the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had. Or it was nothing more than the childish fear of getting his bottom smacked, since Crowley was quite certain the Almighty wouldn’t go easy on his unfortunate rump!

God frowned. “Come on, Crowley. I’m a busy deity, and I don’t have all of eternity to wait for a little demon to accept his punishment.”

She snapped her fingers and Crowley yelped, hands flying back to clutch his bottom. Not only had She given him a stinging little warning smite, but a genuine devil tail had erupted from his backside at the same time, the red arrow end of it sticking out from beneath his black robe. His face turned nearly as red as his hair (and his new tail!), but he scampered over, and She easily hoisted him over Her lap, right next to Aziraphale.

She flipped the hem of his dark robe up over his back and grabbed him around the base of his tail, lifting his hips up slightly before delivering a volley of sharp spanks to his bare bottom. He stiffened and whined at the shocking sternness of it. For preliminary swats, they were _hard_.

“That was for hesitating to obey, you little devil. Are you ready to behave and take your spanking now?”

“Owww! Y-yes, Lord!” If that had been only a minor rebuke, Crowley was certainly _not_ looking forward to the main event!

“Very good!” she gave him a final swat and then let go of his tail which instantly vanished. Crowley was relieved it was gone, thankful not to have such a humiliating visible reminder of his demonic nature (not to mention he wasn’t certain he’d be able to keep it from trying to cover up and protect his bottom while being spanked, and he assumed God would find that extra naughty!) “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

She lifted the hem of Aziraphale’s robe, and then paused, clicking her tongue. “Aziraphale!” she scolded and Aziraphale's heart began to race. “Was underwear a part of the clothing I provided for you?”

“Um …. um … n-no, Lord, b-but --”

“But nothing!” She smacked his underwear clad buttocks several times and he shrieked at the severity of it. The Almighty harrumphed. “I’m not sure why you even bothered. You know very well angels are always spanked on the bare bottom. You have _such_ a penchant for minor disobedience!” Aziraphale felt this was tremendously unfair since he hadn’t even _known_ they were going to be spanked, though in retrospect he should have. He didn't have long to ruminate, though, since God grabbed the waistband of his briefs, roughly yanking them down and working them all the way to his ankles, and then over his dangling feet, and right off. “You’ve earned yourself extra, Aziraphale.”

She proceeded to deliver a brief, but severe spanking to his naked bottom, making him kick and squeal as it was amply warmed. It stung so badly that he couldn’t help but unfurl one of his wings, desperately covering his smarting backside with a mess of white feathers.

“You put that wing away this _instant_ , Aziraphale!” God admonished, and ever so reluctantly, Aziraphale tucked his errant wing back into the ether. “And I see you still aren’t properly grooming those feathers!” She added.

She gave him a few more extra mean spanks before She finally stopped. Both Aziraphale and Crowley's bottoms were already dark pink and stinging as they lay bared across the Almighty's knee, and the proper spanking hadn’t even started yet!

God sighed heavily. “I’m terribly disappointed in you both. What on Earth am I going to do with you two?”

Of course, they all knew _exactly_ what She was going to do, and that was administer a sound, thorough spanking to both of their bare bottoms! Now that She had them both perfectly positioned across her lap, robes up, no underwear in sight, naughty tails and feathers out of the way, She was finally ready to begin imparting Her lesson on their unfortunate backsides.

And that is precisely what She did. She began by smacking Crowley’s small, pert buttocks. Though Her hand was plenty large enough to cover the entire area, She carefully alternated from cheek to cheek, heating up both sides to scalding hot in no time. Crowley writhed, clenching and unclenching his skinny bottom to no avail. Without warning, She switched to Aziraphale’s naked backside. It was much plumper than Crowley’s, and jiggled like jelly with every burning swat. He yelped and twisted his hips from side to side in a futile attempt to escape the smacks.

She went on like that for some time, switching back and forth between them, seemingly at random to keep them guessing. No matter how much they squirmed and wiggled, She never missed her targets, soundly spanking their bottoms to a blazing inferno. Before long, both Aziraphale and Crowley gave up on any notion of stoicism, kicking their bare feet in the air and howling out their anguish. They just couldn’t help themselves. It _hurt_. Their bottoms were absolutely scalding hot from the fiery wrath of the Almighty’s angry palm. 

Of course, She never tired, every smack coming just as hard and stinging as the last. She didn’t even need to use a rod as the ‘Hand of God,’ so to speak, was more than capable of thoroughly spanking their bare bottoms to a behavior modifying (and downright alarming!) shade of scarlet.

At a particularly blistering swat to the delicate underside of Aziraphale’s right buttock, he reached out his hand with a desperate cry and Crowley gladly took it, grateful for the friendly contact. Crowley gave Aziraphale’s hand a reassuring squeeze even as fat tears rolled down his own cheeks, and Aziraphale held on for dear life while they were spanked to complete and utter contrition. Their backsides ablaze, they swore to themselves that they’d never do _anything_ to end up over the Almighty’s knee again.

By the time She finished, both Aziraphale and Crowley were lying limp across her lap, openly bawling, any shame they may have previously felt irrelevant in light of the state of their throbbing, blistered bottoms.

She eased them down off her monumental lap and they stood there rubbing alternately at their eyes and sore bottoms. With another snap of God’s fingers, the backs of their robes flipped up and were miraculously pinned in place, leaving their well-spanked backsides exposed.

“Well, I hope you’ve both learned your lesson and that we won’t have to repeat it anytime soon!”

They shook their heads fervently.

“Good! Now, that’s quite enough rubbing. Each of you choose a corner and put your nose in it until you’re dismissed. Hands on your heads!”

The two tearfully obeyed, each choosing a separate corner to face and then placing their hands atop their heads per the Almighty’s instructions. They were quite a sight: two sets of bare buttocks on display; one small and slim, the other round and pudgy, but both glowing equally bright cherry red. They shifted uncomfortably, the cool air on their hot bottoms both a relief and a humiliating reminder that they were shamefully exposed. Their sore buttocks tingled and itched, but they dared not move their hands to rub, rightfully terrified that they’d quickly find themselves back over God’s knee if they did.

It felt like ages before She finally called them out of their respective corners, and they approached Her, both still red faced and sniffling, their bottoms throbbing. They certainly wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for some time!

“I expect I won’t be having any more problems from you two, right?” They nodded emphatically, the remorse plain on their faces, and the Almighty cracked a fond smile. “At least not for a long time. I want you to know that the Archangels and the members of the Dark Council have been dealt with, as well, so you needn’t worry about them.” Aziraphale and Crowley’s jaws dropped, more than a little surprised by this revelation. God shrugged. “They overstepped. Please understand that I had no intention of letting either of you be destroyed. Nevertheless, I expect you to behave yourselves and stay out of trouble. I only extend my influence so far, and I cannot always be there to rescue you. Or guide your actions with a sound spanking.” 

She sent them on their way with a few parting words. Aziraphale meekly plucked his discarded underpants from the floor with a blush, balling them up in his fist. The two made their way back down the Hall, averting their pink faces from the Metatron as they passed by his desk with their bare red bums still exposed, though he seemed to pay them no mind. Their clothes were where they had left them in the changing room, and so they gingerly got dressed, wincing at the chafe against their sore bottoms.

In the elevator, Crowley reached out and took Aziraphale’s hand in his once again, and Aziraphale gave him a bashful sideways glance, as well as a little smile. Crowley smiled back. They held tightly onto one another as they had so many times in days past and would no doubt continue to do for eternity, the Almighty’s final words ringing in their ears and their hearts.

_“I’ll be keeping an eye on you both. Mind how you go."_

**Author's Note:**

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